Murfreesboro to Montgomery Bell State Park: c. 75 miles
I left home at 4:30AM, so that I could arrive at the park before the hottest hours, the temp for the past and next several days to be in the mid-nineties to 100 or so. The three others at home were up to see me off. The song in my head as I pedaled away was “It’s not leaving that’s grieving me; it’s leaving my true love behind”.
My sentimental mood was interrupted with the cell phone going off in my bike bag, just a couple minutes down the road. A bit soon to be checking on me, I thought. Heading for a turn-off where I could look for the phone, I cringed. “Dang! Biking Ace with his tuned up bike, efficiently packed bags, and, my oh my, new bike shorts has taken off without his helmet.” I turned back and met Marlo bringing it to me in her car.
Okay. Now onward.
The rest of the trip went smoothly. The bike purred over excellent biking roads through valleys with horse or cattle pastures, fields of freshly mown hay, or corn a few inches high, and stretches of woods over gently rolling hills.
I arrived at the park before noon. It seemed strange to end my biking day so early but I had decided that at least my first few days back on the road would be at a conservative pace with the hope of building up strength over the first couple weeks rather than wearing myself out. Leaving the bike bags on my site’s picnic table, I biked through the park, with a stop at the inn for their noon buffet which would hold me for the rest of the day. Back at the site, I slung my hammock, took a shower, hand-washed my riding outfit—using laundry soap I had packed and my neato LL Bean lightweight collapsible bucket that I had for backpacking trips, and relaxed, thankful that the camping area was so well shaded.
Montgomery Bell State Park to Paris Landing State Park: 75-85 miles, depending on which Route 47 West you take
Tennessee has two Route 47 Wests, I found. I had planned my trip by drawing a straight line on an atlas between Nashville and Yellowstone and then, via MapQuest, looking for secondary roads that would keep me close to that line while avoiding major cities, preferring county roads over state roads. I keep a print-out of 500-mile stretches of the itinerary on a slip of paper easily stored in my wallet so that I don’t have to unfold a map to check each route change. Well, I didn’t notice the two route 47 Wests while planning the trip so took the first one I came to, which resulted in an increasing sense that I was going around in a circle: I went through a narrow underpass of a rail line that seemed very much like one I had run through several years ago in a half-marathon that started in the park, then passed a different entrance into the park, and then saw a sign pointing to the same town I had biked through the day before. The map is unrolled: ah, yes, 47 west with a triangle and 47 west with a square. Well, at this point, I might as well continue on until the next route north that will gradually lead me back to the way I want to go. A minor bump in the road.
One reason we love to bike: so many fresh starts. A wrong turn, a hard climb up, a dark spot on a sunlit road. All are forgotten when one gets to the top and has a long coast down in the cleansing wind.
Tennessee River
Laundry drying in not so primitive campsite. Ruka came to meet me at Paris Landing State Park, and since there wasn't enough for two in my hammock, we stayed at the park's very nice inn.
Bikers can stop on bridges
Aunt Betty Smiles
Land Between the Lakes
No comments:
Post a Comment